


stretched out

by acesblindeyes



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: F/M, stretch marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6777256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesblindeyes/pseuds/acesblindeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You hadn't noticed them at first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stretched out

**Author's Note:**

> idk i felt like writing something i know it's shitty

You hadn’t noticed them at first. 

They were small, they were on your thighs, and you didn’t really want to pay attention to your thighs. So when your mom asked what was on your thigh when you were wearing shorts, you were a bit surprised. And so was she.

“I don’t have stretch marks, and I was pregnant! I don’t understand why a young girl like you has them.”

You ignored it. They were pretty cool, like lightning bolt tattoos that were free. You didn’t think they were bad, but your mom’s concern worried you. Are you not supposed to have stretch marks? You thought they were normal. After that, you had been self conscious. You never wore shorts that showed them off and always made sure they were covered. It was such a stupid thing to be ashamed of, but you couldn’t help but noticed them and glower at them. 

Scars. That’s what they were to you.

You hated them.  
\----

The television’s sound is nothing but white noise to your ears as you focus on Dan’s steady breathing behind you. Inhale, exhale. Repeat. His arm slung around your waist, comfortably pressing into the skin exposed by your shirt riding up. His eyelashes fluttering at the base of your neck, his warm exhales and his soft shirt. You’ll probably steal it from him sometime.

You’re just about to fall asleep when you feel his warm hands on your thighs. You instantly freeze up, mind flashing to the conversation you had with your mother years ago. “...why a young girl...has them.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly, voice gravelly from lack of use, yet still managing to be gentle. He retracts his hands, bringing them back to where they were before, but they’re feather light and hovering over your waist, as if he’s afraid to touch you.

You flush instantly. Is your skin on fire? Because it feels like it’s burning. 

“Nothing, sorry.”

“Are you sure?” You don’t even have to look at his face to know his expression. Narrowed blue eyes, furrowed brows, and that small pout he does when he’s confused. Damn him for being so cute. It almost wants to make you give in.

But his voice is just so soft. You give in.

“I have stretch marks on my thighs,” you sigh, already regretting your decision as you shift around to face him. Your face burns more. You expect him to turn away. Maybe even tack on a disinterested “oh”. 

You definitely don’t expect to see Dan smiling, and with dimples, no less. Fuck him. He’s too cute for his own good. 

“So?” He dips his head down to look at you, and you need to stop to breathe for a minute because he’s looking at you so intensely and so in love and no one’s ever looked at you like this.

“I like them,” he blinks slowly, and you think he might be really tired and that’s the only reason he’s saying this.

“You’re hallucinating.”

He opens his eyes, and you’re started with the force of his eyes. So, so blue.

Now that you’re facing him, he wraps his arm around your back and settles his head in the crook of your neck. You’re buried in his hair, but it’s soft and smells nice. Like salt, or the ocean.

“I’m not hallucinating. You’re gorgeous, and the stretch marks add to that,” He mumbles into your neck.

Maybe you’re hallucinating, because you’ve never heard anything like that where you know the person means it.

You pinch his arm. He squeaks out an “ouch” before pouting at you.

“What was that for? I tell you something deep and meaningful, so you pinch me? Flawed logic.” He nuzzles his face into your neck, and you jump a bit with the feeling of his prickly stubble against your skin.

“Just making sure you’re real.”

You feel him chuckle softly into your neck. 

Why were you ever worried?


End file.
